


don't let me be (gone)

by hoerondales



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Baz is pining, M/M, So much angst, Superpowers, THEY'RE ALL HELLA QUEER, agatha is badass, agatha's gift is emotional manipulation, and is hurting, baz is an assassin, baz is traumatised by his mum's death, edit:i forgot to add relationship tags don't hate me please., enhanced hearing, he is fancy, penelope is a scientist- maybe?, penelope is wise as always, probs fluff, she has gone through stuff, simon is cute as always, simon is indecisive, simon is probably a vigilante, someone dies staight away, that high-powered assassins AU none of you asked for, that's all for now, they'll fall in love at some point, will they kiss? hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoerondales/pseuds/hoerondales
Summary: he twirls her, skirt flaring around her legs and she giggles, gazing up at him with big, blue eyes.he freezes for a second before carrying on.later when he kills her, he feels no remorse. there is beauty in the way the light dies from her and he can hear the last flutter of her eyelashes as he walks out of her room, one hand pulling on his jacket and tie and the other pressing a comms button in his ear."she's dead."





	

**Author's Note:**

> i need to stop with these AUs. 
> 
> no archive warnings apply for now but i'm indecisive so the plot might change. 
> 
> baz is a cold hearted killer and simon digs that.
> 
> (in a few years i'm going to look back on my fanfiction and regret everything.)
> 
>  
> 
> I HAVE NO BETA
> 
> THIS IS PRACTICALLY UNEDITED
> 
> THAT IS ALL 
> 
> have an interesting day!
> 
> edit: (i was sleep deprived when i wrote this and accidentally wrote agatha as simon's friend-- this is not true, agatha is not living a double life. i corrected it to penelope.)
> 
> edit2: (i forgot to add the relationship tags don't hate me please.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baz is back, this time an assasin desperately searching for his ex. by the way he has a superpower and pretty much everyone else does too-- especially simon who has like three. talk about being the chosen one.

baz is used to getting hurt.

in this line of work, it's practically in the job description.

but with a gift like his, it's hard to say no.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

he walks down the street with his mother, a tall woman; imposing as he happily clings to her hand and smiles up at her. for a moment, her frozen facade fades as she smiles down at her son before looking forward again, mask steeled. this doesn't faze the young boy-- he knows his mother.

it's dark outside, the street barely illuminated by the lamps and the pair don't notice a figure silently pacing behind them.

they're nearly home when it happens; a flash of harsh light reflected off a silver blade and a few stunted screams-- his mother's gift is strong, and glows blindingly in the dark: slashing and ripping and hurting-- but one woman's gift against a group of armed men isn't enough. she dies because she is too slow, and buys her son enough time to run.

so he runs.

her last words ring in his ears.

" _i love you_."

he didn't have time to answer.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

it's the beauty of it all, the way he can hear her heart stutter from three feet away, the way she smiles and he copies her, a show of white teeth and she takes his hand, takes his lapels in the other and pulls him into the dance. baz smirks inwardly. he enjoys this; enjoys hearing the way her heart pounds and her heels tap against the polished floor. the music is subtle, which he appreciates-- it plays quietly in the background. baz does prefer jobs in more sophisticated areas; much like this one, the spacious house of an aristocratic tyrant.

he twirls her, skirt flaring around her legs and she giggles, gazing up at him with big, blue eyes.

he freezes for a second before carrying on.

later when he kills her, he feels no remorse. there is beauty in the way the light dies from her and the way he can hear her heart desperately try to keep working, muscles straining. he can hear the flutter of her eyelashes as he closes her eyes and walks out of her room, one hand pulling on his jacket and tie and the other pressing a comms button in his ear.

"she's dead."

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

later at night, holed up in a stuffy room with agatha for company, baz fidgets with the hem of his shirt and agatha raises an eyebrow. baz can hear her breathing from across the room, can hear the scrape of a manicured nail on a dull steel knife that she twirls in her hand.

agatha is conventionally beautiful; white blonde hair reaching her waist and framing her face and a dainty figure with almond shaped brown eyes. baz can see why she gets her jobs done quicker than him-- normally it takes him half a day to lure his target but agatha is irresistible to most. normally she gets things finished in an hour.

baz used to wonder if that was her gift.

and she used to scoff at that. she used to be proud of her gift-- it made her powerful, independent, volatile. it let her manipulate people.

six years later, she won't talk of her gift. agatha wellbelove; one of the best agents in the business, retreated from field work. baz has always known it had something to do with her gift.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

she is seventeen: fresh from training, pulled taunt like an elastic band. she is razor sharp and dangerous.

she is eighteen: worn down slightly, when they meet, agatha has been with countless partners of various genders but this girl is exquisite. she is also fiance of the woman she was ordered to kill.

she nineteen: worse for wear, broken down by a toxic relationship built upon lies-- at this point agatha doesn't know if what the girl feels is real.

her gift is emotional manipulation and it happens on a subconscious level.

she is twenty: involved in a scandal with the business and the target and the target's fiance. she wonders if she was ever cut out to be a murderer, a liar.

she is twenty-one: the girl is dead. the target is dead. agatha wishes that she was too.

(she killed them both, it seems. one from a knife to the jugular and the other from a broken heart.)

she is a murderer, she is a liar.

(this becomes a mantra.)

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

the next job is easy. quick and relatively painless. the man is a drug dealer, and exports phoney goods. baz feels nothing as he hears the weak heartbeat fade away and the corpse's fat fingers loosen from the stem of the poisoned wine.

he is halfway through a third cup of lukewarm coffee when the comms buzzes in his ear and agatha's voice filters through, cool and emotionless.

"pitch, get back to base. we have a location on him.

there is a short pause-- his breath hitches, he hears his heart stutter slightly and hates himself for it. agatha sighs quietly, almost inaudible before speaking again:

"he also left a voicemail, specifically for you."

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

" _welcome home_!" he chirps, almost sarcastic as baz wraps his hands around his waist and smirks, soft. simon hugs him back, briefly, before pressing a faint kiss to the sharp line of baz's jaw and another to the corner of his smiling mouth.

simon's bronze locks curl neatly around his fingers as he tilts his head, bending down for a heated kiss. he can hear the shorter man's hitched breath, can count the ertatic heartbeats that pulse in his ears-- against his hands.

they pull apart.

the next line is a whisper; baz wonders if simon even said anything at all.

" _i_ _love_ _you_."

baz doesn't answer.

" _baz_?"

the voice is questioning, slightly muffled and he pulls away from simon, brows drawn together. he looks down at simon, who smiles. his eyes are blue, blue like the sky on a spring morning, almost neon; glowing.

simon smiles, and a mole is missing from the corner of his eyebrow.

" _baz_?" the voice is louder. simon's lips don't move.

he is pulled forward.

a whisper against his neck, tucked above his collarbone and golden curls are pressed onto his chest. the warmth burns.

" _don't look for me_."

he wakes.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

it's fair to say that agatha doesn't approve of baz running after him. "you left simon for a reason." she murmurs, "you left him to protect him."

baz swallows down his fear. agatha's pale hair swishes gently as she prepares a pot of steaming hot tea, and it sounds like waves crashing against a shore of broken rocks.

she looks over from a cup. "why do you want to find him now?"

baz doesn't know how to answer. he is so used to just chasing simon around, desperately searching that he isn't quite sure exactly why.

agatha raises an eyebrow.

"i need to see him." he answers.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

he dreams of simon every night after listening to the message.

 _don't look for me_.

it's almost disheartening, such an abrupt, distanced message. baz wonders what he thought simon would have said, though.

it isn't as if he left him nicely.

_don't look for me._

at night, when he can hear his and agatha's heartbeats from a few rooms away, he slowly falls into sleep and he dreams of the simon that would smile and his dimples would show, the simon that hoarded sour cherry scones and always smelt faintly of cinnamon and burnt oranges.

he dreams of the simon that flushed and stuttered when he was nervous or when baz complimented him, the simon that was stubborn and loyal and loving.

but he also always dreams of the simon that sobbed when baz broke his heart, the way he would curl into a ball and shudder as hot, angry tears soaked his skin.

he dreams of heartbreak.

 _don't look for me_.

he wants to find simon, but he isn't sure why.

 _don't look for me_.

he needs to find simon.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

simon snow has never been the best at hiding. the other children would always find him in a few minutes, which, he reminisces, was always probably due to his gift(s (he should say. there are more than one)).

he looks out the window, and watches the droplets of rain slide down the panels, breathing in and out, slowly. penelope walks into the room; head buried in a book, before noticing simon's ringing, a faint buzz at the back of her skull.

"hey, simon."

he turns around, startled.

"calm down. whatever it is, i'm sure it'll be fine." she says, smiling. the buzzing only decreases slightly.

he sighs flopping down onto the sofa and closes his eyes.

"what if he finds me? what am i supposed to say?"

 

 

 

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you like simon loves sour cherry scones.


End file.
